Unsolicited Advice
by Cordelia McGonagall
Summary: Rose Weasley offers some counsel to a man she encounters at Quality Quidditch Supplies. Thanks to JKR for what I do not own.


Author's Note: I am not steeped in next-gen head cannon, so I hope my Rose suits. :) The optional prompts I used were _diary_ , _Bat-Bogey Hex_ , and _"Where did that come from?"_ I hope you enjoy.

Unsolicited Advice

Rose twiddled her finger around a stray curl that had escaped from the knot at the nape of her neck and tucked it behind her ear. She had escaped from the knot of cousins shopping in Diagon Alley and tucked herself into a chair in the broom showroom of Quality Quidditch Supplies. No one would find her here, hidden behind crates of Quaffles; she could meet up with her family at lunch, and no one would be the wiser.

She flipped the small, leather sketchbook open and fished a pencil out of her bag, keeping her eyes on the room as she looked for a point of entry into her drawing. Rose began to sketch the row of brooms, beautiful in their orderly, parallel displays. It was a challenge to get the sheen of the handle just right - too much attention to this detail would make the gloss of the handle look wet. She looked up from her drawing and scowled. _Blast._ Someone had to be browsing right in that very spot. Rose sighed out her annoyance and stilled her pencil so she could examine the man blocking her composition. He had an interesting face, angular with a sharp chin, and she quickly flipped to a blank page and began to sketch him. He was an unwitting but compliant model; he held still, silently reading the specification placards of each broom. She sketched the crisp collar of his robes, the flip of pale hair carefully combed, and the thin fingers which hadn't been roughened by a broom for some time. His only movement was the thumb of his left hand, twiddling a platinum wedding band.

Rose forgave her subject as her hand flew over the small spread of the book. She added a cufflink with a tiny swipe of her pencil hinting at the detail of a snake. She looked up to study his pose; he wasn't as tall as her father, but he had a similar confidence in his shoulders, relaxed and set back, and he wasn't concerned about taking up space in the small room. _Confident. Maybe arrogant_.

 _Maybe it's just the cufflinks_. Her parents would probably take her to task for that, but they were wrong, for appearances rarely deceived Rose. She saw, and she judged, and she was right. He couldn't be too arrogant though, or else he would have only looked for the price, and he would have had the one that cost the most wrapped five minutes ago. No, this purchase was important. He is thoughtful. He needs to get it right. He looks undecided, yet he isn't going to ask for help; he hasn't looked around for the clerk.

The man shifted his weight to read another placard, and Rose saw a flash of parchment with the Hogwarts crest folded in his right hand. The parchment looked thick like hers, and not like James' returning shopping list. _Oh! A first year!_ The artist now had to compete with first-year Rose, who was now interested in her subject beyond his ability to dress well and stand still. He put his hand on a Nimbus. Rose bit her lip. _That is a huge mistake. The kid must be his first at Hogwarts._

Forgetting her sketch and herself, Rose blurted out, "Not the Nimbus!"

She surprised both of them with her outburst. Her eyes went wide when he froze and moved his head slowly to her, the source of it.

"Not..." she faltered, "not the Nimbus. She...she will get teased. At Hogwarts. No one wants a Nimbus, now." She bit her lip again, regretting having said anything at all, having involved herself. She could have had a lovely picture instead.

"He," the man said.

"What?" Rose corrected herself before the man's scowl settled on his face. "Oh, excuse me," Rose rushed as her face flushed pink. "You have a son going to Hogwarts?"

The man nodded. "First year. They can have brooms, now. Do you attend, then?"

"No. I mean, I'm a first year as well." Rose fought through her fluster to remember the urgency of her interruption. "I've a pile of cousins there. They've told me Nimbuses are rubbish; you shouldn't buy one for your son. He'll get teased for it."

He gave her a skeptical look. "Rubbish? This one outperforms the Firebolt Supreme. I don't think I could buy a better broom. What is better?"

Rose looked at his face, which had softened to a patronizing amusement. It was clear he didn't believe her; it was also obvious that he was as surprised to want to ask her the question as she was to tell him the answer.

"Well, they are expensive, and they are very easy to handle and very fast. I am sure you read that already," she said, with a bravado that made the man smirk at its cheekiness. "but Oliver Wood's son plays for Hufflepuff, and he's the best Seeker Hogwarts has had since..."

"Harry Potter?" the man snorted.

Rose froze, as she, and all her family grew wary whenever her uncle's name was mentioned by those who did not know her relationship to the famous wizard.

"Better, I've been told," Rose answered carefully, ignoring the man's eyes. She pushed forward. "Rowan has a Comet 380. He can make that broom do things on the pitch that the Comet wasn't even advertised for. It's become cool to have a broom that isn't expensive. Everyone has Comets or Cleensweeps. You might be okay with an older Firebolt, or your mum's Nimbus, but a new one? James says a boy in Ravenclaw got sent the exact broom you were looking at for his birthday, and he got teased so much he made his parents exchange it. I - I'm nervous to go," Rose marveled at her words. _When did I think this? Why am I telling this man?_ "and I suppose I wouldn't want to step in it on the first day."

The man nodded, thoughtfully. At that moment, a clerk slid into the room and stood in front of the cheaper brooms.

"My apologies, sir, if I've kept you waiting. May I show you the newest Nimbus and its features? There is no other its equal on the market today, and we only have two left in stock."

The man waved him off. "No, thank you. In your extended absence," - at this the clerk winced slightly - "I've been given all the pertinent information by Miss..." At this, he looked at Rose expectantly.

"Weasley. Rose Weasley."

The man blinked in surprise but smoothed his face quickly and turned to the clerk. "Miss Weasley has given me all the counsel I require. If you would please wrap a Comet 380 for me, I will meet you up front to settle the bill."

The clerk opened his mouth to try again, but stopped when he met the man's cool stare. He scowled at Rose and swept from the showroom, eager to make them both leave quickly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Weasley. Draco Malfoy, at your service." The man nodded his head slightly and offered his hand, which Rose took. The handshake was brief, but he didn't hold her like she would break. Her father always told her handshakes mattered.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malfoy."

The man's nod was businesslike. "Miss Weasley, my son Scorpius is going to be in your class at Hogwarts. You seem like you know quite a bit about the place already." At this Rose flushed and met his eyes, expecting to see them twinkle like her Uncle George's when he was winding her up. She did not expect what she found; Mr. Malfoy was looking at her thoughtfully, with a hint of a smile. "Since my browsing for a Quidditch broom in the broom showroom of Quality Quidditch Supplies interrupted your reflections in your diary, perhaps you would be kind enough to give us some further guidance about his first days?" Rose watched him smirk slightly, but he appeared to be quite serious about his request; he waited patiently for her to gather herself.

"I suppose I should be getting back to my family soon. They are expecting me," Rose answered, with all the casualness she could muster.

"Excellent," Mr. Malfoy nodded. "You can be concise, I am sure."

In the slow stroll to the front counter, Rose wondered if Mr. Malfoy worked with her mother at the Ministry, for the questions he posed to her were quick, layered, and designed to find out exactly what she knew and thought about a variety of details, from the selection of a pet to the most popular clubs at Hogwarts. He'd pulled from her the names and ages of each of her cousins, and Rose was certain he would be able to construct a Weasley family tree on his own.

"I was never bullied at Hogwarts," Mr. Malfoy said abruptly, his words the first revelation of his own he shared with Rose. His face held an odd expression; it wasn't pride, like her father's face when he shared stories of Uncle George and his brother Fred's pranks or the tales turned lectures on her mother's brilliance steeped in hard work. Rose stared at Mr. Malfoy, as he struggled to decide how to form the question he wanted to ask.

"I want Scorpius to be liked."

Rose frowned. This wasn't a question.

"I shouldn't have told you that. Please keep that to yourself," Mr. Malfoy looked scandalized that he let something he'd never put words to bubble out of his mouth.

His obvious fluster gave Rose pause. She'd always been the quiet one, not bookish, nor beautiful, nor graceful. She always watched, and she had flashes, brief moments of clarity in which she felt as old as the adults who let her sit quietly in the corner and listen while the other children rioted in the garden.

"I suppose that isn't unusual, Mr. Malfoy. It is to my family though."

"Don't your parents want you to be popular at school?"

"No. My mother wants me to be good, like my father. My father wants me to be brilliant, like my mother. They never worried about friends. I have family." They'd reached the front counter, and she stopped to look at him, shrewdly calculating his reaction to her answer. If he had a reaction, he'd covered it well. _Odd._

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I've never bothered to think about it," Rose shrugged.

"Well, maybe you should." Mr. Malfoy raised his eyebrows and knocked softly and absently on the counter, calmly taking in stride the increased pace of activity behind the counter because of it. He watched Rose's brow furrow and he smiled to himself.

"One more question if you would, Miss Weasley?"

Rose nodded, absently.

"On occasion, the War has presented problems for our family..."

Rose quietly interrupted him.

"Did your family support Voldemort?"

Mr. Malfoy looked at her, and the crispness of his appearance wilted.

"I was a Death Eater, Miss Weasley." He followed her eyes to his cufflinks. "Not all Slytherins were, you know."

Rose flicked her head slightly in acknowledgement. "Of course not. Our friend Teddy Lupin was Head Boy. He told us then that the professors didn't tolerate students teasing kids whose parents didn't choose well." Rose met Mr. Malfoy's face, and this time it was hers that was cool. "They don't tolerate inquiring about students' blood status, either."

Mr. Malfoy nodded.

"But if you are worried, teach him the Bat-Bogey Hex. Aunt Ginny taught me mine, and it's always been enough. And sir, he tells you any of my lot are giving him a hard time, tell him to come to me." Rose smiled.

_.o0O0o._

Rose slipped into Fortescue and Finnegan's Ice Cream Parlor and smiled at Mrs. Finnegan who'd looked up as she heard the tinkle of the bell at the door. Rose slid into an empty chair next to Albus and scooped a huge chunk of ice cream from his sundae.

"You better get something I like, then. Your dad's been wondering where you were," Albus muttered.

Rose pulled a face. "I didn't think anyone would miss me," she said through her full mouth of strawberry ice cream.

"Well, my Rose e'er blooming, you were wrong about that," Ron Weasley sighed, as he nodded for Hugo to move over a seat so he could sit by his daughter. He sat down and hunched his frame to look Rose in the eye. "We started to get a bit worried."

Rose's face fell in guilt. "I'm sorry. I was drawing."

Ron smiled a tired smile and rested his hand on the small sketchbook between them. "May I?"

Rose nodded, and grinned when her father's face brightened. He settled himself into the chair and opened to the page before the ribbon marker. A row of brooms unfinished revealed her earlier hiding spot.

"Well, at least I know where you were. This is very good." He pointed at a spot in the book. "You can see the polish on that Firebolt. You didn't finish it, though," he said softly, with a quiet curiosity as he turned the page.

He sat up slightly. Putting the book down between them, he used one hand to spin the book around to face Rose.

"Where did that come from?" he asked, his eyes on his daughter as he watched her examine the drawing of the man she'd just met. Mr. Malfoy. Scorpius' dad.

"He walked in front of the broom display. I drew him until he went to pick up a Nimbus. "I talked him out of it," she said slowly, watching her father's face become unnervingly unreadable.

"You talked him out of it," her father said. His absolute absence of a leading tone made her feel like she was at Auror headquarters. She frowned.

"Well, of course I did. He was holding a Hogwarts letter like mine, and he was going to buy his son a Nimbus, and James and Louis say that Nimbuses are naff, don't they? I wouldn't want to see someone get teased straightaway and then realize I could have prevented it. His name is Scorpius. His dad looks loaded, but he may have a hard time of it even without a dumb broom." Rose paused, thinking of Mr. Malfoy's worries, and her feeling that it would be wrong to reveal them. "Name like that and all," she added. Rose's wasn't sure why she was feeling defensive. She looked up at her father, and blinked at the smile she wasn't expecting to see.

Her father exhaled a small laugh. "Well. That was very kind of you, Rose. Your mother will be proud to hear it." He slid a small pile of coins toward her. "Go get some ice cream. Something Albus likes," he added as an afterthought, and ruffled his nephew's hair, as Albus poked his empty glass dish wistfully.

Rose rolled her eyes as Albus grinned, and wandered up to the lengthy queue that had formed in front of the counter. She looked out the window lazily, and her eyes set on Mr. Malfoy with a boy that was his copy. _Scorpius_. The man happened to look up at that moment, and he jerked his head in acknowledgement, flashing her a quick grin before he steered his son down the sidewalk. His son looked up quizzically before giving a half-hearted look around and following his father down the street.


End file.
